


Entry Level Position

by TheManicMagician



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell, Dirty Talk, Forced Feminization, Humiliation, M/M, Papster - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 09:07:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9116686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheManicMagician/pseuds/TheManicMagician
Summary: To get his brother a job at the Lab, Papyrus will do anything Dr. Gaster asks of him. Anything.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Had to get in one last sin before the new year ─=≡Σᕕ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)ᕗ
> 
> You can also find me on [tumblr](http://themanicmagician.tumblr.com/).

It is Undyne, of all people, who brings it up.

They’re sparring, blue and green magic clashing, when she throws out conversationally:

“Was a big fire at the Lab last week. Thirty or so monsters gone, just like that.”

She lobs a spear at him. He knocks it off its trajectory towards his face with a bone attack. Undyne surges towards him, new spear already in hand. She jabs at him, but he dodges nimbly, waiting for his chance to parry.

“Why should I care?”

“Stop interrupting and I’ll _tell_ you.” Undyne snarks, breathless from the fight. “So impatient.”

Undyne lunges too far, presenting an opening for Papyrus. He drives his elbow into her chest.

She staggers back from the blow, unprepared for a non-magic-based attack. He goes to follow up his first hit by swiping her legs out from under her, but Undyne retreats, gaining some distance.

Now it’s he who is on the attack. He sends jagged bones spiraling at her from every direction. She hops around to avoid them, deflecting some with her spear.

“Alphys helped put it out before it could spread and damage any important equipment.” Undyne’s tone is thick with pride. “She got promoted for that. She works directly under Dr. Gaster now.”

Papyrus barely resists the urge to roll his eyes. The royal scientist is supposed to find solutions for monsterkind. Dr. Gaster _did_ design the CORE—but that was a decade ago. He’s done nothing in all this time to address the rampant food shortages in the capitol. Monsters are kept lean, hungry. Shedding dust for scraps. And yet people still treat his name with reverence.

One of the bone attacks pierces through Undyne’s defenses, slicing a thin line open on her shoulder. Undyne claps a hand to the split skin as a line of blood wells against her fingers. Their match was to the first blood, so both dissipate their remaining magic.

“You’re getting faster.” Undyne remarks.

Papyrus puffs up at the praise, but does his best not to betray the flush of satisfaction on his face.

“Come on.”

Papyrus follows Undyne from the practice field in front of her house, into her home. She pours them both glasses of water. He sips at his glass, while she gulps hers down. When she’s drained the cup, she wipes at her mouth with her arm, and sets the glassware down heavily.

“So now they’re scrambling to find anyone who knows about all that science shit. Alphys said there’s some “critical CORE maintenance” coming up and they need staff like yesterday. She’s tearing her scales out trying to find people.”

“…Sans does have some comprehension of that field.” Papyrus admits. When his brother is in a rare great mood, Papyrus will find him curled on the couch, reading some dense physics book or another.

Undyne snorts.

“What?” Papyrus glares at her.

“You know as well as I do that Sans is about as strong as a toothpick. What if there’s another fire?”

Papyrus waves a dismissive hand.

“Those idiots clearly didn’t know what they were doing. Sans would never be that incompetent.” And his brother’s rare teleportation ability would ensure he would be able to escape any such accident unharmed.

Undyne arches one red eyebrow.

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up _too_ high.” Even though he knows she is goading him on at this point, he’s still annoyed. He wouldn’t keep Sans around if he thought he was useless in every regard. “It’s a pretty hard place to get into, low HP or otherwise.”

Papyrus huffs. “No brother of the Great and Terrible Papyrus is going to fail.”

He will make sure of it.

~*~

Papyrus lets himself inside their house, carrying a shopping bag of thick textbooks in one hand. He’s home several hours later than he normally is. He half expects Sans to be at Grillby’s, but instead he finds his brother snoring into the arm of their couch, empty bottles of beer and mustard collected around him. He hadn’t stirred at Papyrus’ entrance at all.

Papyrus moves over to him and drops the bag of books onto Sans’ chest.

_That_ manages to jolt Sans awake. Red magic flares bright in his left socket before it fades. Two dull, washed-out eye lights take its place.

“If I was your enemy, you’d be dust by now.”

Sans ducks his head.

“Sorry, boss.”

Sans’ tone over the past several weeks has morphed from respectful to apathetic. There’s nothing belligerent or challenging in Sans, quite the contrary; there seems to be no fight in Sans at all. He doesn’t seem to care about anything, anymore. It’s unnerving.

Sans picks up one of the books, staring at the cover in confusion. It’s an introductory course on thermonuclear physics. He takes stock of the other books Papyrus has provided; Dr. Gaster’s thesis on the CORE’s power system, as well as several engineering manuals.

“What’s all this?”

“The Lab needs scientists. You’re going to apply.”

Sans scratches at the back of his neck. “Uh, boss, I really don’t think—”

“You. Are. Applying.”

Sans caves under his glower.

“Yes, boss.” He runs his fingers up and down the spine of the book. “But…”

“Yes?”

“I’m not sure—I can’t do this.”

“If you require something else to prepare for the interview, simply inform me and I will acquire it for you.” Papyrus jabs a finger at him. Sans leans away from it, pushing back against the couch cushions. “So there are no excuses. I will not tolerate failure, is that understood?”

“G-Got it.”

“Good.” Papyrus moves to the kitchen, pulling off his gloves. “You can get to work now while I start dinner.”

~*~

Whether motivated by Papyrus’ threat, or his own desire, Sans takes to studying with gusto. He pours over the materials Papyrus bought him. Digs out older books he had crammed into storage boxes, their pages wrinkled from their soak in the dump before he fished them out. The living room gradually becomes filled with pages of notes, crumpled scratch paper. Papyrus doesn’t gripe at the mess, because he can see how this small mission of Sans’ has invigorated him so. And when he approaches Papyrus one day, nervous and hesitant, requesting another book he needs, Papyrus promises to fetch it for him the following morning.

(Papyrus has come to handle all their expenses months ago, permitting Sans only a small allowance. He had been blowing through all their G on that insufferable bar. Papyrus had hoped to curb his brother’s drinking habit, but instead he only encouraged him to open a tab.)

Papyrus taps Alphys to make certain Sans gets an interview. On the day of, Papyrus makes sure he’s dressed in his best (and only) suit before sending him off.

When Sans returns, he seems cautiously optimistic. The interviewers had enjoyed discussing his theories, had kept him for over an hour instead of the typical thirty minutes. He had even spoken briefly with Dr. Gaster himself. Everything pointed to success. The brothers waited on the good news.

And waited.

And waited.

Three weeks later they receive a curt, generic letter thanking Sans for his time, but he was not selected to join the science team. Papyrus’ magic boils as he witnesses the hope snuff out of Sans’ eye sockets once again.

Sans returns to Grillby’s, his haven in rough times. Papyrus crumples the letter in his fist, and sets off for Hotland.

~*~

Papyrus has never been inside the Lab before, but that hardly stops him. Once past the front doors, he makes a beeline for the receptionist.

“Direct me to Dr. Gaster’s office.”

She fumbles with a daily planner, various names and times scrawled onto the pages.

“Did you make an appointment—”

“He’s expecting me now.”

They both know he’s not. But the receptionist nods, pointing him towards the elevator bank.

“The bottom floor, at the end of the hall.”

As Papyrus strides to the elevator, he can feel curious eyes upon him. But none dare to speak up, or argue that he can’t be in here.

Papyrus takes the elevator down to the lower level. There are multiple winding corridors, but the hallways are carefully labelled at every intersection.

On his way, he pauses at the scene of the fire. The door and part of the wall were eaten up by the flames, giving Papyrus a view into the wrecked, singed room. Several construction workers are huddled in a group in the room, discussing renovation plans.

Papyrus presses on. Before Dr. Gaster’s office is his own personal secretary, at her desk.

“Can I help you?”

Ignoring her, Papyrus heads for the door to the royal scientist’s office. The secretary rises, crosses over to him, but he pushes past her and throws open the door.

“Sir, you’re not allowed in there without an appointment—”

Papyrus steps inside the office, the secretary trailing behind. Dr. Gaster is bent over his desk, working through a stack of paperwork.

He looks up at Papyrus and his secretary, unimpressed, annoyed at the interruption. His gaze lingers fleetingly on Papyrus before returning to his paperwork.

The secretary wrings her hands. “I’m sorry Dr. Gaster, he just barged right in—”

Dr. Gaster shuts her up with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Leave us.”

The secretary nods, and closes the door behind her.

Dr. Gaster turns to the next page of the report he’s reading.

“I am the Great and Terrible Papyrus. And you—”

“We skeleton monsters are rather rare.” Dr. Gaster interrupts. “Am I correct to assume you’re the relative of that runt?”

Papyrus growls, slamming his hands on the desk.

“Sans is my brother. And he deserves a spot on your team. He’s smart—”

“Oh, his intellect was never up for debate. He was one of the sharpest applicants by far.”

“So why?”

“The position he applied for opened up because thirty-four monsters dusted in a fire. Accidents around here are not frequent, and typically involve less casualties, but they still do happen. Knowing this, why would I invest time and money into a runt with only 1 HP?”

Dr. Gaster makes a note in the margin of a page. Papyrus just barely resists the urge to swipe the collection of papers off the table.

“Sans is still alive, still fighting,” Papyrus argues. “He’s managed to survive on low stats his entire life. We used to live in New Home, on the streets—and he always managed to avoid injury. Doesn’t that count for something?”

Gaster sets down the report, at last looking back up at Papyrus.

“You really want this for him, don’t you?” The doctor’s gaze becomes contemplative, raking its way up and down his body. “If I am going to allow this, I will require a form of payment.”

Papyrus reaches for his wallet, but Dr. Gaster stops him.

“No, I have no need of that. The king sees me quite well off. Monetary bribes are useless on me.”

“Then what do you want?” Papyrus asks, frustrated.

Gaster smirks.

“You.”

Papyrus blanches, thrown off, but then gathers himself.

“I need it in writing that Sans has his job.”

Dr. Gaster rummages around his fanned-out array of papers. Near the bottom of one of the stacks, he locates Sans’ application. Dr. Gaster signs it with a flourish and hands it to Papyrus.

“There. I’ve honored my end. Time for you to honor yours.”

Dr. Gaster stands. He crosses the room, locks the door to his office, then takes a seat on one of the sofas. He crosses one leg over the other, resting his chin on the palm of his hand.

“Now strip.”

Papyrus wants nothing more than to use everything Undyne taught him to impale every inch of the smug doctor with bone attacks. Sexual favors are not an uncommon way to get ahead, but he has never had to do such a thing himself. He is the Great and Terrible Papyrus—monsters cower at his name alone.

…But Sans needs this job. It’ll buy stability, relative safety compared to the sentry job he works now. And, perhaps most importantly, a job at the Lab will bring back that spark in him.

“ _Now_ , Papyrus.” There’s an undercurrent of warning in the command.

Papyrus carefully folds up Sans’ signed application and pockets it.

He shrugs out of his studded leather jacket, letting it fall to the floor in a heap. Next to go is the black tank top, leaving him bare-chested. It’s cold in the doctor’s office, and he shivers. Still, he stands straight and tall. He’s not ashamed of his body. He’s not as easily humiliated as the doctor assumes he is.

Dr. Gaster eyes his exposed ribs with appreciation, before his gaze flicks down to Papyrus’ waist.

Papyrus hesitates for barely a second before he unzips his black jeans, and pushes them down so they slide off his legs. He steps out of them.

His hand grasps the waistband of his underwear. Slowly, he drags it off.

Now he’s completely naked before Dr. Gaster. Every chip and scar visible. His pelvis totally exposed. He fights the urge to cover his pelvis with his hands, to preserve his modesty. He’s _not_ ashamed.

Dr. Gaster makes him stand there for a moment before he uncrosses his legs, and pats his thigh.

“Come here.”

Papyrus walks over to him, but then hesitates, unsure exactly what Dr. Gaster wants him to do. The doctor loses patience. He grabs Papyrus’ wrist, and manhandles him until he sits on his lap. Dr. Gaster is warm. He smells like smoke and the molten magma of the CORE, with the faintest hint of cologne.

Dr. Gaster’s hands snake up to touch him. One rubs at his lower ribs, and the other wraps around his spine, and pumps at a leisurely pace.

“So many scars for one so young.” His blunt nails brush over the crack on Papyrus’ sternum. “What is this from?”

“An assassination attempt.”

“Someone nearly succeeded in taking down the “Great and Terrible” Papyrus?”

Papyrus’ teeth grind at the doctor’s mocking tone. “No. I tried to dust Captain Undyne the day we met.”

“And you failed.”

Dr. Gaster follows up the statement with strokes to his ribs that make him shudder reflexively. Papyrus has never been touched like this by anyone else. He can’t deny that compared to his own, the feel of someone else’s hands on him is rather…nice.

“When I met him, I considered bending your brother over the table. But I could tell soon enough he was weak. Pathetic. Disgusting.”

Papyrus yelps as he feels the press of Dr. Gaster’s tongue against his sensitive neck vertebrae.

“But you,” Dr. Gaster’s breath is hot against his neck. “You’re perfect.”

The hand squeezing his lower spine goes lower still, fingers teasing around the crest of his pelvis before dipping in to stroke at his pubic arch.

Papyrus gasps, unable to stop his hips from jolting up at the firm stroke of Gaster’s fingers.

“You’re my perfect little slut.”

Magic pools at Papyrus’ pelvis at the stimulation. He urges it to manifest. The sooner this is over with, the sooner he can leave.

Dr. Gaster pulls his hand away as Papyrus forms his stiffening erection.

“Papyrus, Papyrus…” He tuts.

Dr. Gaster grabs Papyrus’ cock and squeezes down, roughly. Papyrus yelps at the sudden agony, trying to push away from him. But the doctor keeps him put with a bruising grip on his hip.

“Is it not clear to you by now that you are my _bitch_?” Dr. Gaster growls.

A sob is torn from Papyrus’ mouth. It hurts! It hurts, it hurts.

“S-Stop! You’ll tear it off!”

Gaster pulls on his cock roughly.

“Apologize.”

“I’m s-sorry!”

Dr. Gaster releases his painful grip on Papyrus’ erection. Any arousal he felt is gone now. The cock dissipates easily, but it takes him several tries to get a pussy to form in its place.

Dr. Gaster hums with contentment, but Papyrus still stiffens as his hand draws close to him again. Despite Papyrus’ trepidation, the doctor’s touch is gentle this time. His hand rubs against Papyrus’ outer folds at a steady pace. Even though he’s sore from the earlier mistreatment, he starts feeling good again, too. Gaster’s thumb massages his clit. Papyrus moans, his legs spreading wider.

“There now, doesn’t that look so lovely? That pretty little cunt of yours.”

Dr. Gaster penetrates Papyrus with two fingers. Papyrus can’t help but moan, making small thrusts up into his hand.

“Your cunt is clenching so hard around my fingers. You just can’t wait to have my dick inside you, that it?”

Dr. Gaster withdraws his fingers, holding them before Papyrus’ face, so he can see how sticky they are with his own fluids.

“Suck them.”

Dr. Gaster presses his fingers to Papyrus’ mouth. Papyrus parts his mouth, forming his tongue to lap and suck at Dr. Gaster’s fingers. His tongue swirls around the digits, tasting his own magic essence on them.

Papyrus can feel Dr. Gaster’s erection tenting beneath his pants, the bulge nudging against Papyrus’ tailbone.

Dr. Gaster removes his fingers, a trail of drool spilling down Papyrus’ chin.

Dr. Gaster feels at his chest, and it’s clear what he’s demanding of Papyrus now. His face burns with humiliation. He clenches his eye sockets shut as his breasts form underneath Dr. Gaster’s hands.

Dr. Gaster cups the swells of magic in his hands, his thumbs circling the nipples.

“Look, slut.”

Unwillingly, Papyrus opens his eyes again, forced to watch Gaster fondle his breasts, forced to watch his nipples grow pert at the attention.

“See how large they are in my hands.”

Papyrus’ unattended pussy throbs with want as Dr. Gaster pinches and pulls at his nipples. He’s dripping, a wet patch growing beneath him. His legs quiver with the force of his need. He presses back against Dr. Gaster’s cock, moaning at the thought of it buried deep inside him.

Dr. Gaster chuckles against his neck. “So proud and haughty, when all you really want to do is be fucked, is that it? You want to be someone else’s bitch.”

“Y-Yes,” Papyrus pants. “I’m—I’m your bitch.”

“Turn around.”

Papyrus shifts to face him. Dr. Gaster’s dark violet eyes are pools of lust. He pulls Papyrus flush to him, pressing his sopping pussy to Gaster’s clothed erection.

God, he wants it. He grabs Dr. Gaster’s wide shoulders for support. Papyrus mouths wordless pleas, unable to articulate what he so desperately needs.

Dr. Gaster presses his mouth to one of Papyrus’ breasts, taking as much of the tit and surrounding flesh that he can into his mouth. He sucks and bites lightly before pulling away. Papyrus’ abused nipple tingles. Faint marks of Gaster’s teeth are left behind in the skin.

“Dr. Gaster, _please_ …”

“On your hands and knees.” Dr. Gaster orders, hoarse.

Papyrus slides off of Dr. Gaster’s lap. He turns around, his back facing Dr. Gaster. He sinks down, his knees on the plush carpet. He leans forward, placing his hands on the floor as well. Juices drip down from his pussy, down his legs, and onto the carpet below.

There’s the jingle of a belt buckle being undone behind him, then Papyrus feels Dr. Gaster’s full, thick cock pressing against him. They moan in synch as Dr. Gaster enters Papyrus.

Papyrus’ hands clench in the carpet fibers as Dr. Gaster thrusts into him. Dr. Gaster’s hands hold onto Papyrus’ hips, helping drive him deep into Papyrus.

“Ah! Gaster, Gaster!”

Any thoughts of his brother, of his initial shame, have completely dropped away from his mind. All Papyrus can focus on is how nice it feels to have Dr. Gaster inside him.

As Dr. Gaster gets closer to the edge, his thrusts become wild, desperate. Papyrus’ arms barely support him, his front half bending down lower. His breasts brush against the carpet, nipples buzzing with a pleasant burn at the friction. It’s all too much.

“Guh, Gaster, I-I’m—”

Papyrus moans, throwing his head back as his orgasm rocks through him.

Dr. Gaster groans appreciatively as Papyrus clenches tightly around him. He thrusts deeply, Papyrus keening as his oversensitive pussy is pounded into. After a few more sharp thrusts, Gaster cums as well, his hot seed filling Papyrus up.

Then Gaster withdraws his cock, releases his grasp on Papyrus’ hips. With nothing more to support him, Papyrus falls forward. His bones quiver with the aftermath. His pelvis and femurs are coated in cum.

Papyrus hears Dr. Gaster buckle up his belt again, hears his breathing slowly settle once more. Watches him return to his desk, to his work.

When his shaking subsides enough, Papyrus gingerly sits up, reaching for his nearest piece of clothing. Dr. Gaster has gone back to mostly ignoring him, as Papyrus dresses once more. His underwear clings tightly to his slickened pelvis.

Papyrus’ hand is on the doorknob when Dr. Gaster speaks again.

“Oh, and Papyrus. One last thing.” Papyrus looks back at him. A smirk twists Dr. Gaster’s face. “I will see you next week.”


End file.
